What's a Girl to do with Runaway Trucks and Dogs that Smell to High Heaven?

       I know that I am no superman, and as awesomely strong as Matt is now that he's finally put some bulk on his previously tiny frame, it takes some amazing beef to stop a 1952 Chevy pick-up truck from rolling down hill into the back of a shed. We were in the process of cleaning out our large shed in order to fit Matt's 1940's Ford tractor inside along with the truck, the mowers and other odds and ends of Matt's.

       Since the 52' (as we lovingly call it) has sat all summer, the gas went bad and we'll have to flush the lines to get it running, however we just wanted to move it back about 10'. "No problem", I said, "Matt, just jump in, put her in neutral and I'll give her a shove." (Silence) That was the sound of absolutely NOTHING happening when I gave her a "shove". "Okay Matt, you push and I'll work the brake." (Silence) Even Matt's brute strength was no match for getting the truck out of the little ruts the tires had sunk in the gravel. "Okay, we'll both push, and if she gets moving, I'll jump in and put on the brake," I decided. Matt looked at me sideways but apparently didn't think it was that bad of an idea because that was exactly what we proceeded to do.

     

  What we hadn't counted on was the time it takes for a truck of that weight to roll back 10', nor the time it takes to run and open a sticky old push button handle and pump the brake. While Matt did his best to grab unto the bumper, his feet simply skid in the gravel with his hind end practically hitting the ground, he was no match against the green beast. I was pretty fast getting to the door but barely got it open in time to hop in and gave that brake the hardest jab I could,
 

(hoping I was pushing the right pedal since I'd only driven the thing once).

     We skidded to a stop just inches away from the 12 ft high shelves we had just organized in the back of the shed.  Had the truck made it any further, three hours of work would have been in vain, not to mention the wreck. Just as she came to a sudden stop, Leah walks around the corner to bring us some light to finish our project. Matt and I, hearts still pounding and sweat dripping from our faces just looked at Leah nonchalantly,

                  "We're fine, everything is OK, no big deal." Well aware she had just come upon a serious scene and not believing our feigned calmness, she eyed us suspiciously until we told her how we came "this close" to bringing the entire shed crashing down. Moral of the story, when a third hand would be helpful, and said third hand is available, go and get the third hand.


        Now occasionally, when you ask someone for help, they will flat out tell you it's something you need to do yourself. This happened to me this afternoon when I walked inside with a crisis and wanted my "big" sister to swoop in and take care of a situation.

         God knows how much I love Nuala the German Shepherd. (That's her to the right with the shades) We have been taking care of her several days a week since she was a puppy and she LOVES to come over to our house. It doesn't matter which direction I come from, when we are about 2 minutes away, she starts getting excited. Today, we were coming up Klondyke and as I approached the stop sign right next to our house I noticed out of the corner of my eye Nuala squirming in the back seat, then she yelped. Apparently, she had managed to roll the window down with her paw, stick her head out of the window and then roll it back up.

 

   In the summer when I have the windows down a bit I "lock" the buttons to the back windows to prevent this from happening, but in all of my days I've never had a dog actually roll it down, only to roll it back up. Now you know and I know that the motor of a window is not strong enough to do any kind of damage to a big Shepherd, but, the scaredy-cat girl Nuala thought it was going to chop her head off- apparently. She screamed when I immediately rolled the window down for her to get her head out.

       

    And instantly I smelled an aroma that can only be likened to rotting flesh. Now here is where I must warn the faint of heart: if you don't know what an anal gland is and you are "light of stomach" than skip to the next section here, you have been forewarned. By the time I pulled into the driveway (which took all of 20 seconds) I no longer could breathe and had to hold my breath just getting her out of the car. Matt has told me in the past of his run-ins with dogs "blowing" their glands. And not that I would ever call Matt a liar, I doubted the severity (and likelihood) of this happening. Allow me to confirm- yes a dog can blow it's anal gland, and yes, it is the foulest smelling aroma God ever created. If you are still confused allow me to explain just what the anal gland is and how it is supposed to work. When a dog makes a bowel movement (we call it making a doody here in pet sitting land) a hard bowel movement will cause the glands to empty some and in essence allow Fido to leave his mark behind for other animals to identify that he's been there.

        When the stool is loose, this doesn't work and the glands can become clogged and need to be emptied by a vet. This is most readily identified by a dog "scooting" after he goes to the bathroom. But occasionally, as with today, in instances of high stress the scent sack or anal gland can "blow".
                                                                             I was not fully prepared for the actual
blowing part. After getting Nuala out of the car, I looked at the back seat and it was everywhere, like it had been sprayed! I was in shock actually and proceeded in the house with this "precious" dog who also stunk to high heaven. Leah was at the top of the stairs and I told her what happened. "What should I do!?" (hoping she would say, 'don't worry, I'll take care of it') "Go out to the car, take the Demolish spray and just clean it up," she said after laughing at me. "But, wait, well, I ... okay." So I accomplished the task, to the best of my ability while not breathing."




           By the time I had to take Uncle Jac to physical therapy, the smell had been cut down to a 1/4 of what it was, but was now mixed with the orange scent of the Demolish spray... however I couldn't keep the windows down to air it out because of the rain, hopefully the stench will dissipate in a few days... please God let it be so.    

         However, rain makes for free time to work in the basement, so it can be a blessing. I feel that the basement remodel will go on forever; I have so many ideas and so little time. Thank God for Matt who is constantly spending much of his spare time pulling electrical wire, installing lights and hanging drywall. I have made it a mission of mine as of late to put on my electrician's belt and get some work done. Yesterday was such a day and my goal to was run wire, install lights and a switch in the basement bathroom.

This is not OUR basement, but rather what I hope it will look like...

As I was working, getting back into that familiar flow of drilling through studs, striping wire and getting wood chips in my hair I realized how nice it was to have an extra set of hands right there anticipating every next move, being one step ahead. In no time flat we flipped the brand new light switch and tada,  God said, "let there be light!" I pointed out to Matt that no matter how many times I work on an electrical project the thrill that comes when you try it out and find that

you have succeeded in your task never goes away. No matter if it's a lowly outlet, a ceiling fan, or light. Oddly, as nervous as it used to make me, I now find electrical work to be kind of relaxing and enjoyable. That's not to say that I wouldn't rather spend my time quilting or doing more "woman's" work, but I try to take each task at hand and find the rewards in it.

           Just the other day we were talking about gifts. Each person has them and when you have a family, more often than not, the tasks that one person finds difficult, or tiresome, another would actually like to do it. This happened a couple of days ago when we tried to devote a half day to outside work because it was going to be one of the last warm days.

                 The projected chores were cutting down corn stalks and cleaning out the little shed so it could be moved away from the house in preparation of laying a small retaining wall and gravel pad in the back. I went outside fully prepared to help with the corn stalks (not my favorite chore by far). My mom was working on the corn with Leah and Matt was cleaning out the shed.

                                                                         To my surprise, my mom

asked me to go at the shed instead of the corn- I can't tell you my insane joy and relief! I laughingly told this to Matt who heartily agreed that he too was glad to be assigned shed duty. Could my mom and Leah have done the shed? Sure, but they actually preferred working on the corn so it worked out perfectly!

One of the things I find when I tell some people of my desire to work my own farm one day is that they like the idea of it, but some of the jobs they foresee as monotonous or distasteful. To that I would say, "many hands make for light work." That is why God says he sets the solitary in families, God loves big families which is why He's always trying to grow His!

                   (Psalms 68:5&6 amp. "A father of the fatherless and a judge and protector of the widows is God in His holy habitation. God places the solitary in families and gives the desolate a home in which to

dwell; He leads the prisoners out to prosperity; but the rebellious dwell in a parched land." )

                 I know that people look at my family's living situation of my mom, uncle, sister and friend Matt living under one roof as odd. But I look at my "single" friends who live alone and think how lonely it must be. When I come home there is always someone to ask me how my day was; there are many hands to get house work done, finances are combined, projects get completed when no one is looking and there is joy everywhere I turn. When I have a mechanical or repair question, Uncle Jac is the man to go to. He's WAY better then Google or YouTube; there is hardly anything that he can't fix. Twice a week, my clothes miraculously get washed and folded and put at the bottom of the steps. The garden is tended, the dishes are washed, the floor gets swept, and the dogs get fed.

            It doesn't matter who does all of these things, the point is that while yes, many people make for more messes, they also make for much work. Thus none of us are ever get bogged down. If I can't lift something by myself, I just stop, walk into another room and ask for a hand. All of the "work" aside though, the thing I find the most rewarding is the endless amount of happy faces who are genuinely interested and care about every little thing that is important to me. If something happens during my day that is exciting I get to tell that story sometimes as much as four different times and get to feel the thrill of another person laughing, or sympathizing with me each time I tell it!

       Each night before retiring to bed I say goodnight to everyone and sincerely feel that they will be happy to see me again tomorrow. I can't tell you what kind of a feeling that is. I am truly blessed indeed. To those of you who choose to live alone, I would say, you don't know what you are missing, and for those of you who wish you weren't alone, I would say, hang on to that scripture, Psalm 68:6 "God sets the solitary (lonely) in families."

As always, Jesus is that beautiful light that expells ALL darkness

Until next time, thanks for hanging out with me...
  Love to yall,
~ Michelle